Domestic Life of the Fire-worshippers.--The Zend-Avesta.--Parsee
Rites and Ceremonies at Birth, Marriage, Death, and Final
Consignment to the Tower of Silence.
Before we cross the private threshold with a view to take a peep at the
domestic life of the Parsees it may be well to state that "Avesta," in
one of its deepest significations, is said to be the symbol of womanly
fervor and purity. Among the early Zoroastrians it was consecrated in
the _fire_ that burned on the hearth, which typified the inviolability
of the family, through which the sacredness attached to Asha[22] as the
centre and preserver of the order of the universe is reflected upon and
consecrated in the mother as the immediate centre of the home, "the
transmitter of human life," and the preserver of family bonds.
The ancient Fire-worshippers are commanded in their religious books to
watch over the woman in the home. It is a religious obligation. In the
first male child centre the past, present, and future glory of the
father. Children have always been the desire, "the crown of glory," to
an Oriental. Thus the mother became in the Zend-Avesta the "holy mystic
one," through whom man himself was born again as a son. She was the
goddess of abundance, the irradiator of his hearth and home.
While the procreative and nutritive offices of woman called forth deep
religious enthusiasm and veneration, the peculiar physical difference
which these entailed on her appealed to a dawning sense of chivalric
generosity; and it was a tender regard for her physical liabilities that
first led to the institution of distinct rules for her life at times and
seasons when she was most likely to be overworked, oppressed, or unduly
taxed; and these rules time has rendered fixed and absolute as the
Medo-Persic laws. But all through this rigidness of custom are seen not
only a tenderness for the weakness of woman, but a high appreciation of
her ideality and beauty.
[Illustration: A PARSEE LADY.]
"A wife cannot be set aside, save for the crime of adultery alone. She
may be superseded because of barrenness, but not a beloved and virtuous
wife. It is better to be childless here and hereafter than to wound or
grieve her for a moment. And in any case let her not be set aside but by
her own consent and free will." In all such cases she must be supported
and cared for tenderly until death. It was an unpardonable offence
against _God_ to leave a wife destitute and without support. Unmarried
daughters--a very rare occurrence among the Parsees--are entitled to an
equal share of the mother's estate. A wife is not responsible for the
debts of husband or son, whereas they are held strictly responsible for
hers, and the son is enjoined, as the highest duty to the gods, to
support his mother after the death of her husband. In a husband habitual
vices--such as profligacy, intemperance, cruelty--insanity, and
impotence, were held sufficient excuse for aversion. She was neither to
be punished nor deprived of her property in any such case.
A father is strictly forbidden to sell his daughter--_i. e._ to take
money in any shape whatever when giving her in marriage, but is
enjoined, on the contrary, to furnish her with a handsome dowry.
The Parsee woman is as independent in her home and marriage relations as
the European, although the universal seclusion of high-born Hindoo and
Mohammedan women has not been without its influence on her domestic
life. The first use of the veil among the Persian women was as a symbol
of dignity and honor rather than of concealment from motives of modesty.
In the early days of the Zoroastrians woman was held not so much as an
equal, but as something superior in the home. In social rights and
home-duties the husband and wife shared alike, and side by side they
ministered to the holy fires on their household hearths. In the
"Prajapatya" form, which, though _Vèdic_, is equally binding on the
Fire-worshipper, the bride and bridegroom are distinctly enjoined to
perform together their civil and religious duties. But the poetic love
and reverence which surrounded woman in the early days of the Aryans,
and which is still unsurpassed in all their literature, struck deeper
than laws or rules, and in a burst of generous and spiritual enthusiasm
"all men were commanded to bow the knee in filial reverence before the
mother of a family, declaring a mother to be greater, more blessed,
than a thousand fathers." Thus we see how much the simple fact of
maternity tended to elevate woman in the home. And the desire to foster
and protect her led these early worshippers to typify womanly purity as
ever sacred, and as ever ready to comfort and cheer the heart of man as
is the carefully-watched fire that burned on their altars.
But, alas! the rules and obligations which were originally intended for
her safety and happiness are now forged into iron fetters to bind her,
too often a willing slave, to the caprice of man, and have been used,
and still are urged, against her higher advancement to the privileges of
a liberal education.
Nevertheless, there are among the Parsees even to-day a few
old-fashioned observances which might be introduced with great advantage
to the wife and mother among the laboring and even richer classes of
European nations. For instance, even in the poorest families there are
certain days when the woman is considered unfit to cook, wash, bake,
sweep the floor, or light the house-lamp. So strenuous are the laws
against her working at these times that among certain persons her touch
is held to pollute the thing or person that comes into close contact
with her. She is forbidden to perform even the lighter offices which may
fall to her share in the house. She separates herself from the family on
such occasions. If she is too poor to keep a servant, her husband is
enjoined to do her part of the housework in addition to his own outdoor
labor, whatever that may be. The same rules apply to all female
servants.
During pregnancy woman is held sacred among both Persians and Hindoos.
Their laws are fixed and absolute on all points relating to maternity,
whereas in European countries women are often treated with less kindness
and consideration than the household and domestic animals. Disregarded
by man, she is too apt to neglect and overwork herself at such times.
But in the Parsee code of laws maternity and childbirth are protected by
deep religious obligations. "All harsh words, anger, sorrow, anything
that will occasion pain of mind and body, are to be kept away from the
woman with child." "She is forbidden all strong drink, all unhealthy
intercourse with neighbors and friends; she cannot travel from home or
from place to place, or look upon unsightly objects, or listen to any
but pleasant and familiar sounds." In fact, woman at such times is to be
guarded with an especial religious care, "as the household priestess or
divinity, who is on the eve of unveiling the future greatness and glory
of the family by the gift of a male child."
Another and a very old superstition among the early Aryans and Parsees,
if we may call these tender observances by such a name, is that the
living, thinking, intelligent soul (which is held to be distinct from
the life) of the child takes up its habitation in the heart and pulse of
the unborn babe forty-nine days, or seven times seven sunrises and
sunsets, before its advent into the world. This curious belief makes
them regard the mother at such times as overshadowed by the presence of
a divine being. Hence, before the "holy breath" has animated the unborn
babe the mother is conveyed with religious care to the ground-floor of
the house. There are both spiritual and physical reasons for this step:
that she may not be disturbed by the ordinary household cares and jars;
that the child should enter into the world on the solid breast of the
great mother of all, the earth; and that she may not undergo the fatigue
of climbing stairs, which Oriental women very much dislike. Here she
remains fifty days, and sometimes even more, before, and forty days
after, the birth of her child, tenderly cared for by every member of
the family, for to neglect her at such a time is to forfeit the
blessings of the seven high angels who are about the throne of
Ahura-Mazda.
In the centre of her chamber there is an enclosed spot, sometimes
provided with a cot, and all around it is a low wall or a light fence to
guard off all irreverent approach. At the time of delivery her women
place her in this sacred spot, and here, in the heart and centre of the
Fire-worshipper's _home_, the newborn child is ushered into the world.
Among the Hindoos, and even among the more uneducated of the Parsees,
these observances have lost their original signification, and have
dwindled down not only to a mere ritual ceremony, but are corrupted into
a gross superstition. The poor mother is now looked upon as being
impure,[23] and her seclusion from the rest of the family necessary to
preserve the entire household from the much-dreaded pollution of
childbirth; therefore none of the members of the household will approach
or touch the mother--not from a fear of harming her, but rather of
pollution to themselves--until forty days after her confinement and
after she has undergone a series of purifications and performed a great
many sacramental rites.
The whole course of the future life is carefully traced out for every
child that is born unto the world. First of all, at the moment of birth
it is the duty of the nurse and midwife to carefully observe the time,
the hour, the signs, and marks, and any and every unusual occurrence
which may happen at the moment of delivery, particularly the aspect of
the heavens at the time of day; if at night, the appearance of the moon
and stars, and all such phenomena. All these and the exact moment of the
infant's birth are noted down. The newborn child is also carefully
examined as to its physical conditions, and these also are commented
upon and set down for the use of the astrologer. The mother too has
especial attention bestowed upon her; incense is kept burning at her
bedside; she is fumigated twice a day by means of a censer in which
odoriferous gums are burnt; tapers are lit and sent as offerings to the
Fire-temples, with wine, fruit, flowers, sweet oils, and frankincense
and myrrh.
On the seventh day after the birth of the child an astrologer and priest
are invited to determine the horoscope of the newborn infant. The
former, having ascertained the moment of birth and all other notable
things with regard to mother and child, begins by drawing on a wooden
board a set of hieroglyphics in chalk as curious as they are
complicated, and his dexterity in counting and recounting the stars
under whose influence the child is supposed to be born is marvellous;
after which all the assembled relatives press forward, especially the
father, eager and trembling to hear the astrologer predict in a solemn
voice the future life and prospects of the newborn babe.
According to these curious speculations, if the child is born at the
point of Cancer he will be a great man; if at the point of Capricorn, he
will be a great priest and reformer. Under the influence of the planet
Saturn he will be distinguished for intelligence (though some priests
hold the influence of Saturn to be dark and sinister over human life);
if under Jupiter, for power and physical strength. If he happens to be
born at the moment of the arrival of the sun at the summer solstice, the
child is looked upon as the favorite of Heaven, and every good fortune
is predicted as the result. Should the planet Mars preside at the time
of birth, they foretell great trouble and sorrow; if Mercury, poverty
and early death; under Venus, contentment and peace; and under the moon,
a numerous progeny. The astrologer then enumerates the names which are
the most appropriate for the child to bear, so as to mark his or her
astral relations; the parents make a choice of one of them. The
Fire-priest then takes the babe and places it on his knees, waves a lamp
lighted from the sacred fire over it, calls aloud its name, and implores
Ahura-Mazda to fulfil all the good and avert all the evil predicted by
the stars of heaven at the hour of its birth.
After the expiration of the forty days, and having undergone seven
purifications by fire and smoke and various incense fumigations, the
mother returns to the family circle as before, but is exempted from much
arduous work while nursing her infant.
I was fortunate enough to be present one evening at the house of Shet
Dorabjee, a Parsee merchant of Bombay, when one of their most beautiful
services was held. It was the simple act of lighting their evening lamp,
which in every Parsee household is one of the most sacred duties. This
lamp is poetically called "the dispeller of darkness." It is always
lighted in the evening, but goes out at dawn. Besides this, an earthen
and ever-burning lamp is preserved in almost all Parsee homes.
On the occasion when I happened to be present at the house of Shet
Dorabjee the front door was gently closed at twilight. The family, of
whom there were no less than forty-five persons, assembled around this
"hearth-lamp." My charming hostess and friend, the lady Shet Dorabjee,
repaired to the secret chamber, kindled her torch at the perpetual fire,
mingled its flame with her breath by lightly blowing on it, returned,
and lighted the hearth-lamp. Then the family all stood up--father,
mother, sisters, brothers, children, and grandchildren--no stranger
being allowed to join the circle. I stood aside and quietly watched the
scene. With their arms crossed upon their breasts while the mother was
lighting the evening lamp, they repeated this prayer (of which I
obtained the translation): "O Ahura-Mazda, thou who dwellest where the
sun never shines, where the lightnings flash not, from that world, thy
secret hiding-place, kindle our hearts to worship the pure Lord of
Purity;" to which the whole family responded, "So be it, O Divine
Illuminator."
Consecration into the Zoroastrian religion takes place in the seventh
year of a child's life. First comes the strange purification by washing
the child's body and face with the urine of the cow. This curious and
disgusting custom is said to be handed down from the most ancient times,
when this liquid was regarded as a very effective remedy against any
disorder of the bodily organs. This done, a prayer is repeated, and the
body is bathed again in pure water. There is a second and a third
process, each called purification; the second consists of standing face
to face with the fire, and praying to the Light without beginning or
end; the third in repeating, with arms crossed, the Zoroastrian creed
and acknowledging the truth of the Zoroastrian religion.
The child is then seated before the high priest, who puts on him a linen
garment of nine seams and a woollen girdle of seventy-two threads.
These are the exact number of the sacred books of the Fire-worshippers.
These two are called the "garments of the pure and faithful," and the
whole ceremony is concluded with a benediction of fire and prayer, the
former being waved round and round over the child, and the latter being
chanted.
The last and peculiar initiation takes place when the youth has attained
his fourteenth year. He stands clad in pure white among the priests and
his assembled relatives and friends in the Fire-temple. Here he repeats
his vows; the priests warn him of certain temptations that will beset
his youth and manhood, and the shame and suffering that will follow him
through life if he should prove unfaithful to the higher instincts of
his nature. They then invite him to drink the "homa" or "soma" juice,
and to join them in practising purity in thought, word, and deed.
The "soma," or moon-plant, is a round smooth twining plant peculiar to
the Aravalli Hills; it is also found in the deserts north of Delhi and
in the mountain-passes of the Bolan, and it is imported into Bombay. It
possesses not only medicinal, but, when allowed to ferment, slightly
intoxicating, properties. It is the privilege of the Fire-priests and
the most devout of the congregation to partake once a month, at the time
of the new moon, of this intoxicating juice. Those who are about to
partake of it generally abstain from food from sunrise till noon, which
is the hour for celebrating this ceremony.
A day or two before the appearance of the new moon the stalks of this
plant are bruised with the tender shoots of the acacia and with
pomegranates, extracting thereby an acrid greenish juice. This is put in
a strainer of goat's hair, after which it must be pressed through by the
priest's fingers; this juice, mixed with barley and clarified butter,
is allowed to ferment, when it forms the "soma wine." On the first
morning after the new moon is seen in the heavens the Fire-priests
repair to their temple, where, after certain prayers and chants, the
soma-juice is drawn off in a vessel; a portion is thrown into a sacred
well as a libation to the earth, a ladleful is drank by the priests, and
the residue is handed round to the people who are present. The priests
then join hands and wait for the stimulating properties to reach the
brain, whereupon they wheel round chanting a hymn full of mystical
meaning.
Strange as it may seem to us, the exhilarating property of this drink is
supposed to shadow forth the presence of divine life in the soul, and
this life of thought and emotion is often poetically called "wine"--"the
wine that fills creation's cup."[24]
The Parsees in worshipping the sun turn their faces to the rising
luminary, and, holding before them branches of certain trees, chant
aloud. In our early-morning rides on Malabar Hill, as the sun made his
first appearance above the horizon, the white-robed priests of Iran were
always before us, crowding the summit of the hill; they could be seen
with their faces turned eastward, with branches of acacia raised aloft
in their hands, singing their morning hymn to the god of day.[25]
We knew personally several of the Fire-priests of Bombay. They seemed
less intelligent than the ordinary Parsees, and some of them went
through their religious duties mechanically and without any of that
religious fervor that I had noticed in the Brahmans; but I have seen
others who were both intelligent and extremely devout.
Among the Fire-worshippers the marriage of one's children is the first
and earliest consideration. Marriage is held a high sacred and religious
obligation, and mothers often pledge their children in marriage before
they are born, and if their children prove of the right sex their pledge
is held sacred. In most cases, however, the priests are the go-betweens
or the matchmakers. This is held as one of the most important of the
ministerial duties that fall to the care of a Fire-priest. As soon as a
Parsee sees what he and his wife consider an eligible mate for his son
or daughter, direct negotiations are opened with the parents by means of
the Fire-priest, who calls on the parties, and after some few
preliminary questions with regard to the temper and disposition of the
proposed mother-in-law on the part of the relatives of the young maiden,
the Fire-priest (who cannot proceed until he has examined the respective
horoscopes) demands the birth-paper of the little maiden in question,
who, perhaps all unconscious of what is going on, may be frequently seen
hiding behind her mother and peering timidly at the white-robed
Fire-priest who is about to decide one of the most important events of
her future life.
Everything depends on the positions of their respective stars. The stars
once declared favorable, however, matters proceed rapidly and the
betrothal takes place. This consists of an exchange of dresses from the
parents of the young couple; but so rigid are their rules that the
acceptance of this simple gift is held by each of the parents as the
sign of an indissoluble bond between the children.
Even the day for the celebration of the marriage (after the children
have arrived at the respective ages of eighteen for the boy and fifteen
to sixteen for the maiden) is selected by the Fire-priests. Indeed,
there are only a few days in the year held propitious for marriage by
both the Hindoo and Parsee. So many marriages take place on these
favored days that to a stranger it would appear as if the entire native
population was being married off.
We were invited to the celebration of the marriage of Munchejee
Sorabjee's daughter, a very beautiful girl and a great heiress in her
own right, her late uncle having left her a very large fortune. We
arrived early, so as to witness the whole ceremony from beginning to
end.
It was a lovely place near Mazagaum. The house was approached through
grand old groves; there were rustic seats here and there, and inviting
grassy slopes whence one could catch glimpses of the distant sea. We
were shown into a spacious hall, where we took our places, with several
other European guests, on divans arranged along the walls.
Just before sunset the bridegroom's party arrived in full dress of pure
white, all save the turban, which was of a dark chocolate color,
ornamented with precious stones. Each of the gentlemen attached to the
bridegroom's party had garlands of white flowers around his neck. Behind
these came a long row of Fire-priests in flowing white linen robes,
white turbans, and long white silk scarfs.
The nuptial ceremony must always be held on the ground-floor, and after
all the guests, some three or four hundred Parsees, had taken their
places round the hall, there was heard a gentle buzz of expectation. All
eyes turned involuntarily to the great lofty door at the western
extremity of the room. It opened, and for a moment the young bride stood
still, hesitating at the threshold of the unknown future before her.
Presently both bride and bridegroom entered. I never saw a more graceful
or more beautiful creature than this young Parsee bride. Her dress was
exquisitely simple--white satin trousers fastened at the ankle, above a
pale blue silk bodice covered with some sort of rich white embroidery,
and over it all, wound round her whole person, half veiling her face,
was a semi-transparent flowing scarf, every curve and twist of which was
arranged with the most artistic effect. They walked in side by side. A
murmur of delight ran through the audience at the delicate downcast
face, the grace, and the beauty of the half-veiled maiden figure before
us. When the couple reached the centre of the hall they bowed down and
performed a sort of mystic prostration to Mother Earth in the presence
of the Fire-priests. They then stood up, joined hands, and waited for
the auspicious moment. All eyes were turned upon the youthful pair;
every one was almost breathless with tender expectation, save the
Fire-priests, who watched the sunlight fading out of the sky. With the
vanishing of the last shimmering gleam of light the ceremony began.
Torches and lamps were kindled with fire from their temple by the
Fire-priests, who approached the young couple, and, waving round them
the sacred light, sprinkled them with consecrated water; then taking an
immense "purda," or veil, placed it over one of their number and over
the bride and groom, who were shrouded beneath its folds for some
minutes; meanwhile other priests chanted the following hymn: "O man, in
the name of the great Ahura-Mazda, be ever pure and faithful, and bright
in good actions as the immortal Light. Be ever worthy of all praise and
honor in the heart of this woman, now thy wife. May the spirits of fire,
sun, and water give thee wisdom! May the peaceful earth, whose fragrance
is excellent, whose breasts contain the heavenly drink, fill thee with
the purity of the Pure and the benevolence of the great Yohoo mano
(beneficent spirit) toward this woman thy wife!"
Then the chant is addressed to the bride: "O woman of mysterious body,
be thou immortal like Kosru (one of the fixed stars). Be full of
understanding for thyself, thy husband, and the fruit of thy body, as a
capacious vessel full of love, fervid as the sun by day, tender and pure
as the moon by night; heavy laden as the cow (clouds) with moisture"
(meaning heavy laden with kindness, as the clouds with moisture). "Be
serene, be wise, be steady as the fixed stars. May Ahura-Mazda give you
fire for brightness and purity, the sun for exalted rule! May the
shadowless night give you the moon for increase and the sky for life
everlasting!"
The instant the chanting--which was drawled out in monotone by the
assembly of the Fire-priests--ceased the great white veil was withdrawn,
and the young couple were man and wife.
The bride then, blushing scarlet and looking if possible still more
lovely than before, received the eager and hearty congratulations of her
friends and relatives, who pressed around her and embraced her. Her
mother and aunts wept with joy and poured tender benedictions on her
young head. It was a trying ordeal for the poor girl. I noted every
shade of feeling that passed over her face. She wore a look of
constraint, every now and then blushing crimson; she bit her lips in
order to keep herself from giving way to her own conflicting emotions.
After this came the bridegroom's turn to salute and be saluted by his
own and his wife's relatives. A knot of gay young Parsee gentlemen
surrounded him with welcome sounds of greeting and laughter when the
next important part of the ceremony began. A young Parsee lad,
magnificently dressed, appeared, bringing in a large bowl of milk, and a
charmingly dressed young maiden advanced, the younger sister of the
bride, with a _choole_, or vest, belonging to the newly-made wife.
That "there is only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous" is
only too true, for this rare and unique ceremony was absolutely
concluded by the Fire-priests washing the toes of the bridegroom in the
milk, and then they rubbed his face all over with the cast-off garment
of his wife. As far as I could understand, the one was a sign of the
great future happiness in store for the husband, and the other that he
was no longer his own master, but henceforth under petticoat government.
It is but just to add that most of the Parsee gentlemen present seemed
to have outgrown this ridiculous custom, but the ladies smirked and
giggled and seemed to enjoy it immensely.
After this came the end. The happy but confused-looking young couple
retired (dripping with rose and jessamine waters showered over them) to
their new abode, which in most cases is in the paternal home of the
husband.
The Parsees have but few festivals; the birthday of Zoroaster and their
New Year's Day are the most important. The former is held in the month
of October, and it is a sight worth seeing. The men, women, and
children, magnificently dressed in gold-wrought silks and flashing
jewels, crowd the Fire-temples with offerings of fruit and flowers. Long
processions of priests robed in pure white take turns in officiating,
and chant after chant ascends from the temples to the shining
Ahura-Mazda, accompanied with invocations to the spirits of the
righteous dead, and to the seven high angels around the throne. The
beautiful half-veiled women, the lovely children, the noble-looking
fathers of families with their numberless sons standing at their right
hand, and the priests magnifying and feeding the sacred flame from
sunrise to sunset, form a sight as inspiring as it is novel.
Their Noow Rooz, or New Year's Day, is observed very much as we do
ours. The poor and destitute of all castes and creeds have alms, food,
and clothes distributed to them by the rich and great, poor relations
receive presents, and among friends kindly visits and gifts are
exchanged.
The costume of this peculiar people is exceedingly simple, and said to
be made obligatory on them by the rajah of Sajan on their first landing
on Indian soil. That of the man consists of a long seamless muslin or
silk shirt or tunic reaching to the knees, a woollen girdle with
tassels, and a pair of silk trousers; when going out he puts on a sort
of tunic, with a short silk vest over it; the modern Parsee gentlemen
has also adopted shoes and stockings. The cap or turban by which a
Parsee is distinguished is bound round a frame in the form of a little
round tower, slightly higher on the right side. The stuff of which it is
constructed is a peculiar manufacture made at Surat expressly for the
Parsee turban. It is a sort of stiff paper-muslin, figured, and
generally of a dark-red or chocolate color, bound round the frame
smoothly, till it is made to assume this one particular form of a
conical tower (typical of their earliest Fire-temple), around which
emeralds and rubies are arranged on great festal occasions.
The Parsee women that I met and visited in Bombay were, on the whole,
remarkably good-looking as girls; before they conceal their fine curly
hair they are really beautiful, and the children among the loveliest and
happiest to be found in the East.
The women are fair-complexioned, with a delicate brunette tinge, with
large eyes and regular features, often exquisitely formed, owing to
their dress being freed from anything like pressure on the body; but
they rob themselves of a part of their beauty by the custom of
concealing their beautiful hair under white linen bands bound around
the brow. They wear very wide silk trousers, gathered and fastened at
the ankles, over this a silk tunic, often descending in graceful folds
to the feet and bound at the waist, while a deep, wide scarf of silk or
some other light texture gracefully drapes the whole person and serves
at once the double purpose of a head-dress and a veil.
They occupy in their homes a much more honorable position than either
the Hindoo or Moslem women. They enjoy almost as much freedom as
European women. I used to meet them in the streets and bazaars, driving
in their open carriages, surrounded by their bright, happy-looking
children.
So careful are the Parsees of their national honor that in the whole
island of Bombay there exists neither paupers nor prostitutes among the
followers of this religion. Polygamy is unknown among them. A wife can
only be put away for immoral conduct. She is tried by the Punchayet or
Parsee court, and if found guilty repudiated amid the whole assembly;
formerly she was put to death.
The ceremonies attending the death of a Parsee are very singular. When a
person is about to die he is conveyed to the ground-floor, washed in
consecrated water, and his face anointed with holy oil. A lamp or lamps
lighted from the sacred fire in the temple are placed by the dying man's
bed, and priests stand before him with folded arms crossed on their
breasts, and pray for him in a most earnest and beautiful chant. When
life becomes quite extinct the body is clothed in a new white cotton
shirt of nine seams and a sort of apron, which is thrown over the face.
This is bound by a new and sacred girdle of seventy-two threads. The
body is then placed on an oblong stone on the floor.
But the most curious part of all is, that along with the Fire-priests
the house-dog is brought in, and after they have offered up prayer and
praise in the presence of the assembled family, the dog is taken up to
the dead body of his friend and master and exhorted to conduct him
safely into paradise. If the dog should lick affectionately, as
heretofore, the face, or even hands or feet, of his dead friend, it is
held as a most auspicious sign of the dead man's ready admittance into
heaven. It is but just to add here that the more refined and intelligent
Parsees have outgrown this absurd custom and superstition; but the more
ignorant certainly believe that every dog has an angel spirit residing
in some star, whence it issues forth to convey the souls of the good
safely into heaven.[26]
When the time for the removal of the body approaches, lamps lighted from
the sacred fires burn around the corpse. The priests stand face to face
with the dead, singing praises to the immortal Light; finally, their
last prayer or exhortation to the dead soul is chanted. This done, the
body, covered with white garments, the hands crossed on the breast, is
laid on a long open bier. A number of priests robed in pure white carry
the bier to the dohkma or tower of silence, and there the long
procession of friends and relatives stand in a circle praying with arms
folded, heads bowed, and lips moving silently, while the Fire-priests
place the dead body on a long slide and slip it on the iron gratings of
this strange circular tomb, to be devoured by birds of prey.
On the third day they pray again in the Fire-temple that the soul of the
dead may ascend to heaven, for, according to their sacred books, on the
third day "he reaches Mithra (Sun-god), rising above the mountains
resplendent in his own spotless purity;" then he comes to the bridge of
the "_Gatherer_" where he is asked as to the conduct of his soul while
living in the world. If he is pure, a beautiful, tall, swift spirit,
called Serosh, comes thither with a dog, a nine-knotted hook, and the
twigs of the "Barsom;" these things are considered efficacious for
keeping off evil spirits and guiding him over the heavenly bridge
(Chinvat). Here a most exquisite form meets him, lovely and smiling, and
when he questions the beautiful maiden, "Who art thou shining so
brightly on the wide shore?" she replies, "I am all thy good works, pure
thoughts, and pure words, O man." She then takes his hand, leads him
smiling and joyous to the archangel Yohoo mano, who rises from his
golden throne and speaks thus to the soul: "How happy it is that you
have come here to us from mortality to immortality!" Then the soul goes
joyfully to Ahura-Mazda, and resides for ever with the immortal saints,
praising the unbegotten, self-created Light.
Though the Fire-worshippers believe in the resurrection, they do not
hold that it is to be made in the same body; their reverence therefore
follows the soul, and not the body deserted by its spiritual tenant,
while their reverence for the earth, water, and fire is so profound that
they hold burial, cremation, or even casting the ashes into the waters,
a sacrilege against the elements. The original idea in exposing the body
to the weather was Brahmanic--that of absorption by the elements. The
dead body was restored to the sun, air, and sky, to be reunited and
launched on the bosom of that "_vast Illimitable_" whence it had sprung.
The Parsees also hold all birds sacred, as a sort of spiritual agent of
universal purification, through whose agency all gross, unclean
substances pass into healthy conditions. For these reasons the towers of
silence which receive the dead spoil are open to the sky, and by means
of the bird of prey it re-enters almost immediately into the domain of
life and health and purity.
From the universal testimony of pagan or Christian travellers we find
that the Fire-worshippers of India are thought to be more honorable in
their dealings with one another, and even with strangers, than the
generality of Asiatics, and even than those peoples professing
Christianity. They rarely resort to written contracts, as their word is
the best bond. Benevolence is said to flow in their veins, so
conspicuous have they become for their love of charity. The Rev. Mr.
Avington, during his stay at Surat so early as 1698, bore testimony to
the fact that the Parsees there were ever more ready to provide for the
comfort and support of the poor and suffering than even the Christians;
and this reputation they bear to this day in India. The Bombay
government voted thanks so far back as 1790 to Sorabjee Muncherjee, who
during the scarcity that prevailed at that time daily fed at his own
expense two thousand people, comprising Jews, Christians, Mohammedans,
and Hindoos. Mrs. Graham, in her journal of a residence in India,
declares that she was enraptured with the simplicity, purity, and
never-ceasing kindliness of the Parsee community; and every one in India
is familiar with the name of that very prince of benevolence and
kindliness, the venerable Parsee baronet Sir Jamsetjee Jeeboy, knighted
by the queen of England for his unbounded charities, which are not only
unsurpassed, but without a parallel, in ancient or modern times. He has
done more in his lifetime for Western India, in feeding the poor,
releasing unhappy prisoners for debt, building causeways, founding
schools and colleges for the education of all castes and conditions of
men and women, erecting hospitals for the relief of the suffering poor,
benevolent institutions for the deformed, spacious resting-places, or
dhurrum-salas, for weary travellers in all parts of India, stupendous
aqueducts, wells, and tanks, than any other single individual, or even
the East India Company, for the benefit of mankind. Connected with the
Grant Medical College of Bombay is the noble hospital, the gift of this
Parsee baronet; and only a few years ago his family erected a hospital
for incurables near it. An ophthalmic hospital has been opened and
endowed by another liberal Parsee, Cowasjee Jehangheer.
The late Sir Jamsetjee commenced life in Bombay at the early age of
twelve as a street peddler, selling old bottles, and was called
"Bottle-wallah" to the day of his death.
In the short space of two centuries of undisturbed industry the Parsees
have placed themselves in competition with the foremost of the Europeans
in India. In liberality and enterprise they rank with the
merchant-princes of England, and may be justly compared to the most
famous merchants that America has produced in the last century, and yet
no question has ever been raised as to the commercial integrity of the
Parsees. In the Indian banks and various other stock companies the
Parsees are prime movers. They are almost the exclusive owners of all
the trading-steamers that now navigate the Indian and China seas. They
are great landholders, and many of the finest residences in the island
of Bombay are owned by Parsees. They have shared largely in introducing
railways into India. Jamsetjee Dorabjee is now considered the foremost
railroad contractor in India. The most difficult passes extending from
the Thull Ghauts to the Kustsarah Mountains, covered with wild jungles,
full of trap hills, mountain-torrents at one season of the year, and
devoid of water at another, were laid open and made as easy of travel by
railroad as the most finished roads in England or America. Many English
officers of the engineer department have declared the building of this
railroad across the Thull Ghauts and Kustsarah a more arduous
undertaking than that of the great Pacific Railroad across the American
continent.
Europe, during the great American War deprived suddenly of one of the
chief products so necessary to her industries, resorted to India for
cotton, and all at once the island of Bombay became not only the great
centre of trade, but soon attracted to herself merchants and traders in
cotton from the four quarters of the globe, each and all eagerly
competing for the same prize, the monopoly of the cotton-market.
Enormous fortunes were amassed in an incredibly short space of time, and
for a brief period the whole commerce of the great East and West seemed
to flow into the port of the small island of Bombay. Misinformed by the
English press, and seemingly unwilling to investigate for themselves the
true nature of the almost superhuman struggle carried on between kinsmen
for the preservation of State rights and the suppression of slavery on
the American continent, this eager crowd only foresaw what seemed the
most natural, the utter destruction of the great republic of the United
States and the magnificent future for themselves springing from the very
ashes of this ruin. Thus assured, and blinded to every other
consideration, even the wise and hitherto prudent merchants of Bombay
became dazzled with the prospects in view, and launched forth into the
most gigantic enterprises and into rash schemes for the utmost
development of one and all the various resources of the country.
Everywhere this feverish, insatiable thirst to profit by a great
nation's approaching destruction displayed itself. Men and women who had
never dreamed of speculating in stocks, the rich with his hundreds of
thousands and the poor with hardly a few rupees to his name, master and
servant, were alike seized with the distemper called by the few who
looked calmly on "Rupea-Dewana," "the rupee-mad." How changed was the
once happy population! What anxious faces, revealing lines of thought
and care, of midnight toil, of mingled fear and hope! Still, the great
drama went on, and for a short period immense fortunes were made in a
day. But no sooner had the whole island gained sufficient encouragement
to set on foot her gigantic schemes and rash enterprises, no sooner had
she at one final throw staked all on the ruin of the Northern States,
than came the appalling intelligence of General Lee's defeat. A fearful
revulsion followed: sudden panic seized the busy world enclosed in the
small compass of the Bombay "Commercial Square." Like a flock of birds,
the business population took wing and vanished out of sight. The banks
were closed, flourishing houses collapsed, firms disappeared, and an
almost universal ruin stared every one in the face. The very atmosphere
was filled with the despair of men who had so rashly staked all and lost
all.
Painful as the lesson has been, it was a wholesome one, not only for all
classes of merchants in British India, but for Old England herself. The
merchants of Bombay are once more in their counting-rooms and
warehouses, the banks are as firmly established as ever, with a richer
experience and a more profound insight into the laws which govern the
moral as well as the business world; they yet bid fair to render the
beautiful island of Bambâ Dèvi the heart and centre of all the commerce
of the East, even as she is now, owing to her remarkable sanitary
conditions, the healthiest city in India. She is the second city in the
British empire in point of numbers, having a population of six hundred
thousand, and an average to the square mile exceeding that of London;
nevertheless, the average death-rate for the past five years has been
the same as that of London.
[Illustration: BOMBAY--UNIVERSITY AND ESPLANADE.]
FOOTNOTES:
[22] "It cannot be denied," says Max Müller in his _Origin and Growth of
Religion_, "that in the Avesta, as in the Vèda, _Asha_ may often be
translated by purity, and that it is most frequently used in reference
to the proper performance of the sacrifices. Here the Asha consists in
what is called 'good thoughts, good words, good deeds--good meaning
ceremonially good or correct, without a false pronunciation, without a
mistake in the sacrifice. But there are passages which show that
Zoroaster also recognized the existence of a kosmos or _rita_. He also
tells how the mornings go, and the noons, and the nights, and how they
follow that which has been traced for them; he too admires the perfect
friendship between the sun and the moon and the harmonies of living
nature, the miracles of every birth, and how at the right time there is
food for the mother to give her child.
"As in the Vèda, so in the Avesta, the universe follows the Asha, the
worlds are the creation of Asha. The faithful while on earth pray for
the maintenance of Asha, while after death they will join Ormuzd in the
highest heaven, the abode of Asha. The pious worshipper protects the
Asha; the world grows and prospers by Asha. The highest law of the world
is Asha, and the highest ideal of the believer is to become Ashavan,
possessed of Asha--_i. e._ righteousness."
[23] It is now very difficult to ascertain at what period the "dual
principle" of good and evil formulated by Zoroaster was first applied to
the sexes. It is clear, however, that in course of time the masculine
energy came to be regarded as good and holy, and the feminine as evil
and unholy; and there is no doubt that from that time the original idea
of the mother as the household priestess or divinity underwent a slow
but radical change; and at length the fall of woman from the lofty place
assigned to her in the early Vèdic and Zoroastrian religions became an
accomplished fact.
[24] Omar Khyâm, astronomer-poet of Persia.
[25] The earliest mention of this practice is found in the eighth
chapter and sixteenth verse of Ezekiel, where that prophet complains
that the Jews turn their backs upon the temple to worship the sun.
[26] The dog is also brought in to be looked at by the dying man when at
his last gasp.